Rift
by Shufuku
Summary: Ichigo needs a way to vent. All of his anger. All of his frustration. All of his sorrow. Is Orihime his solution? Or does she have just as many issues as him? Will they help or just hurt each other?


_A/N: **so yeeeeah, this is completely out of the realm of what i usually write, so bear with me, but i always wanted to write something along these lines. i guess i was weighing on whether or not it would appropriate. well, i'll find that out eventually. it's going to be a bit darker than my usual stuff so be on the lookout for that. also, sex isn't the basis either. it'll be in the story for as long as it continues to drive the plot, so if you're looking straight up lemon, you might want to read something else. anyway, hope you like it...**_

* * *

_—1— Prey_

—_was sitting on the couch_

_I offered him a drink—went to the sink—_

—_cup—!?—I-Ichigo!_

Her mind was now a jumbled mess. In a moment's time, he had seized her like a lion seizes its prey by pinning her to her kitchen counter. She was unaware of how and when he removed her blouse so quickly and how he managed to unfasten her bra with just one hand. The other had already pushed back her embroidered maxi skirt and underwear and slipped his middle and index fingers into her core sending chills down her spine making her arch her back. Her arms flew backwards searching for leverage, some type of leverage, _Anything_!

After recklessly knocking over a few cups and a pan, she managed to find the edge of her sink and she held on for dear life as he began to rock against her. His mouth found her neck and he did nothing to hinder the force in which he bit down on her throat. To her, it was pain and pleasures all mixed into one which was paradoxically a foreign and familiar sensation to her.

"Ah!—"

The hand she managed to bring back in front of her grabbed hold of his shirt inadvertently ripping off about four buttons. One landed on her chest as the rest toppled to the floor.

Being a teenager, she would have moments where she would explore her body in the comfort of her own home, but he was revealing totally new and vivid sentiment that lay dormant within her. The inside of her thighs grew moist, she could feel the bulge in his pants that rubbed across her leg, and he was fondling her breasts and was sinking his teeth into her skin. All reason she had wisped away in a matter of moments. She threw her head back giving into his sexual onslaught.

In that moment, he freed his grasp only to swing her around having her back face him. He pushed her downward laying her flat on the counter and grabbed her by her waist. Without warning, he began pounding into her maintaining a steady and overwhelming rhythm. He grasped a clump of her hair and reeled her head backwards giving a whole definition to the word "riding". Every orifice in her sprang back to life as she scrambled for something to hold onto once again. She took hold of the sink with both hands and a series of whimpers and moans escaped her as she tried her damnedest not to collapse under the pressure of his rhythmic caressing.

"Ichigo! AH! I-Ichigo!"

He said nothing to tend to her cries. He continued his unrelenting palpitation as she grew louder and he grew faster.

An hour had passed before he was finished with her. Their heated passion lead from the kitchen, to the wall, to the couch, than finally reached its peak in her bed where he floated above her in the sheets as he gazed into her eyes—the first time he looked at her since they started. She lay with her hands above her head and her hair disheveled. Sweat and sex trickled from the contours of her body and she gasped for air, breathless from the moment.

Her mind was blank.

There was no way she could wrap her mind around what had just transpired between them. In all honesty, she was still differentiating with herself on whether or not this was all a fabricated illusion. A ruse. A dream.

He broke eye contact with her. He looked across the room at the clock that sat on her dresser.

11:00 p.m.

He rose from the bed and walked out of her room without saying anything. Her eyes followed him with a quizzical look on her face. She wrapped her body in a make-shift dress made out of the bed sheets and tried making her way after him, but the farthest she got was her door post. Her legs were like jelly so she used the frame to support her weight. Her apartment was dim-lit at the time, so she searched the dark and she eventually saw Ichigo putting back on the clothes he had abandoned in the living room.

"I have to go," it was the first time he had spoken to her all night. He hadn't even looked at her as he grabbed his bag and his cell-phone and reached the front door and turned the nob.

She softly called out to him, "Orihime…"

He turned back around to her. She wore a small comforting smile.

"My name is Orihime Inoue…if you didn't know."

He turned back around and opened the door. He left without another word.

* * *

Ichigo threw himself onto his bed as soon as he got home and sighed into his pillow in a confused heap. He completely ignored his father who had apparently waited for him to come home to eat dinner and riddled him with questions as he came into the house with a shirt which was missing four buttons, droopy eyes, and hair which was in greasy disarray. He wasn't in the mood to answer to anyone.

"You're a damn animal…the worst of the worst."

He couldn't believe what he just did. He was gone all day, probably worrying the crap out of his dad, got into three fights, stole from the guys he beat into a pulp, used their money to see every movie that was in theaters, and after all that, he eventually found his way into this girl's house being served water and the next thing he knew, he had sex with her. He didn't even know her. Why did she even invite him in?

He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, "But she knew me."

His memory wasn't that good, but he could distinctively remember a uniform hanging on her wall.

"…the same friggin' wall you had her pinned to."

He was just pissed off all the time. Pissed off at himself for being pissed off. Pissed off at a lot of things. And eventually, he would need a release. And that Inoue girl just so happened to be in the crossfire of all his frustration.

"That's no excuse."

He remembered now. The uniform was from his school. He had to go to school Monday and find her and apologize. Dear God, did he have to apologize. He was better than that.

"I _was _better I guess."

Damn it.

Stop thinking about it.

He unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and threw it to the floor and kicked off his shoes. He wrapped his sheets around him and shut his eyes knowing well that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night.

"Way to screw up your Saturday Ichigo. Way. To. Go…"


End file.
